


On Our Way Back Home

by ThirteenSocks



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Childhood Friends to Lovers, Childhood Trauma, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21963073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirteenSocks/pseuds/ThirteenSocks
Summary: As Keith's childhood friend, Shiro has gotten to watch Keith grow. He watched Keith go from the happy child, loved dearly by his dad, to the lost boy with no parents, no home. He's watched all of the childhood innocence be ripped so unfairly from Keith.And Keith? The person who he thought about every moment in capture? Had given up on himself. Now he's lying in the hospital, machines breathing for him and nourishment delivered through tubes, from his botched suicide.Shiro promises Keith that no matter what, he's not going to give up on him.If he's the one person that doesn't.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

Keith and Shiro are playing outside in the dirt. It’s a rare spring day where it’s rained and the usual loose sand is more like hearty soil. Perfect enough to make shoddy sandcastles with cheap, plastic buckets.

Keith is 5 years old and Shiro is 11. They’ve been good friends since Shiro moved in across the street. His parents are still in Japan, but they wanted him to come to America, so he’s living with his grandpa. Keith is half Korean, half American. ’I’m half Texan,’ Keith had happily exclaimed to Shiro before Keith’s dad had corrected him that Texan wasn’t a nationality.

Keith’s mom’s whereabouts were unknown, and Shiro dares not ask kind Mr. Kogaine. Keith’s dad would look a little lost, a little sad, at the mention of Li Ku Ro. ’Most beautiful gal this side of the universe, that Miss Li,’ he’d once confided in Shiro.

Keith’s dad is a firefighter and the unusually wet day sees him able to stay home with Keith. He’d told Keith to invite Shiro, Keith let Shiro know, because he’d brought them some cake and soda.

”Shiro, do you ever touch someone else and think, ”That’s not me,”?” Keith is watching his own small hand, flexing it in and out of a fist, his voice full of childish wonder, ”Like, _you’re_ warm and soft. And maybe I am too. But _I’m_ not _you._ You say things from what you’re thinking, and I can’t tell what you’ll say so. Our thoughts must be different.”

Shiro watches young Keith grappling with the concept of the world being more than him. It’s a scary thing to realize. His brows and knitted together, perplexed, and matched with a pout of the lips.

”Yeah, I guess we are different people, huh?”

Keith squeezes a fist full of dirt and watches it slip out from between his fingers. He opens his hand back and up sticks what’s left in his mouth.

”Keith,” Shiro reaches over to try and get Keith’s hand out of his mouth, ”you can’t just eat dirt. It’s... dirty.”

”I like how it feels though.” Keith lets Shiro return his hand to his lap. ”Do you not like it?”

He shakes his head, ”I’ve never tried it. My grandpa would probably be mad.”

Keith cocks his head to the side and narrows his eyes like he’s studying Shiro. Like he can’t understand how Shiro _wouldn’t_ enjoy eating dirt. Maybe, given the conversation, he was thinking about how this was one of their differences.

And it kind of is.

Keith wears shoes indoors, he’s not afraid to get dirty, he’s kind of loud, and wears his emotions on the outside.

It’s not bad, just different. It’s not how Shiro was raised.

Shiro reaches down in front of his crossed legs and scoops up a handful of dirt. Tentatively, and aware of Keith’s curious eyes following him, he places a pinch on his outstretched tongue. It’s gritty and tastes as earthy as it smells. But the thrill of it has a wide grin cracking at his lips. One that Keith returns.

Mr. Kogaine calls them inside to have some of the promised cake and soda.

They sit around the table in the living room, the one sat in front of an old, worn leather couch. The cake was made from a box but it’s still moist and Shiro can’t help but stuff his face and then wash it down with the off-brand soda that’s in his plastic, scratched up cup. The TV is on the kids cartoons that air on the public network. Shiro doesn’t watch much TV at home, he’s too busy with chores and homework, so he’s not following the show very closely Keith, however, has his eyes fixed on the screen, while he rocks forward and back.

Shiro pays attention long enough to see an animated knight kiss remove his helmet and kiss a pretty princess on the hand. But he notices Keith stop moving and that draws his eye more.

Keith’s eyebrows bunch together and he moves his hand out in front of him. Quickly he glances at Shiro, and Shiro pretends to look away, and then he presses the back of his hand to his lips. The confusion on his face doesn’t change but he withdraws his hand and tucks it under a leg and continues rocking.

Shiro excuses himself to the kitchen to get more soda.

Mr. Kogaine is hand-washing the dishes that looked like were used for making the cake. He’s humming, a bit off-tune, but still full of joy. Full of wonder. Keith is a lot like his dad.

”Excuse me, may I have more soda?” Shiro asks.

Mr. Kogaine stops humming and turns to face Shiro, dirty bowl and soapy rag still in hand. Red blooms under his cheeks. ”Why of course, Lil’ Buddy. Hold right up.” He replaces the things into the sink and rinses his hands off. He gingerly takes the proffered cup from Shiro and pours in more soda.

”Now between you and me, Tiger. Little Keith is crazy for his friend Shiro. Man, when you aren’t here he’s gabbin’ all about you. I just wanted to thank you. It’s been hard on us since his mom left and I haven’t seen him happy like this since. Thank you, tiger.”

Shiro doesn’t know what to say so he utters a quiet thank you as he gets back his cup and shuffles into the living room to sit next to Keith again.

Mr. Kogaine really loves his son.

But who wouldn’t love Keith?

He watches Keith watch the show and he feels a swell of emotions catch in his throat. He wants to protect Keith. He can’t say why, _he just does._

 _”_ Hey, Keith?” He says when commercials finally pop up.

”Hmm?”

”I’m glad we’re friends.”

Keith chuckles. ”Me too.”

They finish up their cake and eventually it’s time to take Shiro back home. Mr. Kogaine drives him and the radio blasts country music so loud that he only knows the man is singing because he can see it. Keith is in the back seat begging his dad to stop being embarassing.

”Oh, sorry, Lil’ buddy, I forgot, _Shiro’s_ here.” He laughs rich and warm.

Shiro can see from the rear-view mirror that Keith is turning red.

When they arrive at Shiro’s house, Mr. Kogaine turns to him and say, ”Thanks, again. I mean it,” and waits until Shiro’s inside before driving. He can see Keith making a fuss and imagines it’s probably to try and find out what the thank you was for.

Shiro waves, smiling, knowing his cheeks are going to be sore by the time he gets inside.

He watches the small Kogaine family of just two pull away, feeling his heart full.

Shiro doesn’t know it but that’s the last time he’ll see Mr. Kogaine alive. And the last time for awhile that a smile comes easy to Keith’s face.


	2. Chapter 2

By some miracle, he made it out.

And by miracle it was a man part of a rebel group that had infiltrated the camp as a double agent. He had said he’d been watching Shiro, waiting the moment to aid in Shiro’s escape.

Shiro had lost track of how many marks he’d etched into the crumbling walls of his cell, but he knew it had been no less than a year. He’d lost some time between capture and his placement in the cell, but it had to have been only a few days as Shiro recalled watching out for the light of the sun or moon for indications. He’d missed Keith’s 20th birthday.

Thoughts of Keith had been the only thing to keep him going when he’d felt unable to survive for even himself.

He looks out the plane window, with his arm against the small ledge beneath it. The man had given him clothes along with the ticket to get back home. It was safer to not get in touch with anyone, let anyone know what happened, or what evils were building across the ocean, not until he was back. It felt strange being once more in civilian clothes, sat in a plane like he was jetting somewhere perhaps for work. Though the reflection of the pink keloid scar carved from cheek to cheek across the bridge of his nose was a reminder that there would never again be a time he hadn’t gone through what he had.

The hum of the airplane, the engine loud, and vibrations soft, see him nodding off, until finally he gives in and rests his cheek against the window. He’s maybe not the pilot, but he’s flying. He’s in the air. He has his wings again.

For the first time in so long, he feels safe as sleep comes to greet him and welcome him to rest.

When he steps out of the gate passed customs he’s rushed by Iverson and ordered to follow, before he even knows how they knew.

”Now, imagine our goddamn surprise when your passport is scanned into the damn system. Takashi fucking Shirogane. As if you hadn’t been declared dead for over a year now.”

It’s too much for him, the brightness, the crowds, the noise, it’s overwhelming. He’s half-listening to Iverson, half staking out a place to run and hide.

They get him down to the base and immediately he’s pulled into questioning.

They grill him and try to break them as if he hasn’t been broken before, not in Basic, not in Officer school, and surely not as a prisoner. But it’s useless for them to keep trying to beat more cracks into him. He doesn’t know who the group was nor what they were after nor why they chose him. He tells them of the man who had helped him escape. He tells them all he knows, the details they’d want to hear anyways, and then they leave him. Give him an hour or so more of being alone, locked inside the room. They hope he’ll have more for them, he knows that as long as that hope exists, he’ll be a prisoner of his own.

But he’s slaughtered men now. He became the Champion in their gladiator-style death matches. He’d rise each day not knowing if that was the day he’d die. And not knowing if it was worse to wish for his opponent’s death or his own.

They could keep him here as long as they wanted.

It lasts two days. But two days is nothing. He sleeps soundly in between them being in the room, safer perhaps in their watch than anywhere else in the world.

They must realize that because on the evening of the third day Iverson comes in and just sighs as he lets Shiro know he’s free to go. Not off base, but he’s free at least from the interrogation room. The man doesn’t admit it, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t show any sign of it, he’s a seasoned Officer, but Shiro knows that the man is happy to release him.

The first thing he does is go in search of Keith.

Nobody on base seems to know. Or they’re not wanting to say.

Finally, when he keeps coming up empty, he switches strategies.

”Excuse me, do you know where Lance Serrano is?” He asks the nearest person he sees. That, finally, gets a response.

”Lance? Yeah, that dude should still be in the mess hall.”

Shiro thanks them and starts heading to Mess.

It’s easy to spot Lance, he’s chatting loudly and animatedly with Pidge and Hunk. Shiro had never seen a cadet get smoked so much in the Mess during Basic, and all because the cadet just couldn’t keep quiet.

As he approaches, he marvels at how different the three look. He hasn’t seem them in years; only knew them from Keith, so he didn’t really keep up with them as he became busy with school and his duties. They’d certainly sharpened around the edges from the baby faces they’d come enlisted with.

He wonders where Keith is, but Keith has always been one to be as far away from others as possible.

Shiro walks to just behind the three and cautiously interrupts them. ”Lance?”

Lance’s fork clatters to the table from where it was in his hand. He whips around and stares with wide eyes and an open mouth. ”You were dead.”

Hunk clamps a hand around Lance’s mouth at the same time Pidge smacks Lance’s shoulder.

”Shiro?” Hunk asks.

”Yeah, it’s me. Some... _things_ happened but I’m ok. I’m here.” He tries to shrug. ”But speaking of here, I was wondering if any of you have seen Keith? I asked around for him but nobody seems to know.”

The three share a look with each other, a look of thin mouths and down-turned heads and furrowed brows.

He suddenly wishes he were sitting down.

It’s Lance that speaks next.

”Keith? He uh- He’s not doing so hot. Keith sorta went off the deep end when he heard the news. We all thought you were dead. So he’d lashed out, and got kicked out” Lance swallows visibly, ”Then attempted suicide back at his shack.” Lance’s eyes draw away and he takes a few moments before he continues. ”I went to see him once. He’s... kind of a vegetable now.”

Shiro really wishes he was sitting. His throat feels like he’s being choked out. His stomach feels acidic. His eyes can’t keep focus and he knows that, for the first time since escaping, he’s about to break. He asks where Keith is with trembling words.

Lance tells him but not without a heart-wrenchingly quiet, ”I’m sorry, Shiro.”

Shiro thanks him, them, and then he’s out of Mess and flying to Iverson’s office to beg with his life for them to allow him off-base to visit Keith.

Iverson must know he couldn’t win that battle, must see it in Shiro’s eyes that Shiro will raise all the hell they had expected him to when they first stuffed him in the interrogation room cuffed, because he agrees to escort Shiro himself.

It’s a compromise he’ll take. As long as he gets to see Keith.

Iverson takes him to the hospital but stops in the lobby to give Shiro privacy.

Shiro’s pulse is hammering away in his veins as he makes his way to Keith’s room. The elevator is going so slow when all he wants is for it to go fast.

Lance’s words are starting to hit him as he steps out of the elevator and heads toward the room number the receptionist gave.

_Vegetable._

He stops at the door, pausing, trying to keep bile down, and then opens it.

Wanting to see Keith is different from seeing him. The Keith in his mind is still wild and every centimeter of him oozes life. From the deep, burning indigo of his eyes, to his untamed silky, black hair, to strength in his muscles that belies his small frame, Keith is fire and defiance if it were a person.

But the man before him?

This Keith is... still Keith. Wild hair and angular. But his muscles are gone. He’s lost the kiss of the sun on his skin. He’s attached to so many machines and IV drips. Strangest of all, he’s not really moving.

”Keith,” he chokes on a sob, ”It’s me, Shiro.” He comes to kneel down beside the bed, taking Keith’s now fragile hand in his, ”I’m sorry I scared you, baby,” the nickname slips; he’d held on to sanity largely because of Keith, and somewhere along the way, as he’d mindlessly hallucinated to try and escape everything, Keith had become his baby. He’d built things up in his mind that Keith had been waiting for him back home, not unlike a wife waiting for her husband to return from the war. ”I love you, baby. I’m so, so sorry.”

He finally breaks down on the side of the hospital bed, head buried against Keith’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pacing of this chapter felt meh.  
> I'm still trying to figure out how to balance scenes where things needs to keep moving; since not every shot has to be or should be a slow, prose-filled amble through the meadow.  
> If y'all have any thoughts on how to improve like, such as pointing out where there could've/should've been more detail, where the transition between places need more buffer, etc.
> 
>   
> Edit: I’m not sure if it’s this chapter or next but heads up there will a conversation about child molestation committed by another child. 
> 
> Thank you for your comments, again I hope to get to replying soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for child molestation by another child. (Not Shiro)

They’re tossing a baseball back in forth in Shiro’s yard. They’d skipped out on going to Campfire because Keith had gotten a black eye that day. But he refused to tell Shiro why when he asked. So Shiro does what he always does when he knows Keith _wants_ to tell him but _just can’t_ ; he makes them play games or run around, something, anything, to get the energy out and help Keith gain a little distance from the situation.

The heat of the summer bears down on Shiro, making him pour sweat. And a quick, closer look at Keith tells him the boy is suffering the same. But it’s better like this, fighting the elements make the game more exhausting.

7 years old and Keith runs Shiro, 13, ragged.

Finally, after an hour of them pitching and catching, Keith calls for a break and waddles over to the cooler that Shiro had drug outside and placed with ice and bottled water.

Keith pops open the cap to one and gulps down with fervor. When he comes back for air it’s audible. He crunches up the now empty bottle in his fist and flops down on the grass.

Keith loves the grass, had said none of the homes so far have had any.

Shiro hadn’t like the _so far_ part but at 13 he was realizing that not liking something and not having something come to pass were different things.

Shiro joins Keith on the grass. He just sits on it though, doesn’t want his clothes stained, and pulls his knees to his chest.

Keith speaks, quiet, after Shiro settles in.

”The others asked me who I liked but then acted like they didn’t want to know when I told them. I don’t get it. Why would they ask?” He’s cradling a palm against the swollen eye. His voice is raw and his face innocent. Truly, Keith doesn’t understand why. And it pains Shiro that someone as loving as Keith would be taken advantage of for his naivety.

”I can’t speak for them, other than to say what they did was wrong, Keith.” He plucks out a few strands of grass along with a dandelion that’s still got it’s yellow petals. He twirls it between his fingertips.

Silence takes space between them and all Shiro can hear is the shrill chirping of cicadas somewhere out amongst the trees.

”Are you gonna ask, Shiro? Do you wanna know?” Keith sits up.

Shiro looks over to Keith to see the boy watching him from the courner of his eye, face down-turned and angled away. His small arms are wrapped around himself.

”Of course, I do. I like hearing things about you, Keith. Who do you like?” He figures Keith had got a crush on a popular girl and had been punched by another boy who also had a crush on her.

”I like Lance,” Keith sounds wistful. Like he’s being swept up into his dreams. ”He’s han- handstum.” Keith removes his hold on himself and runs a hand along the top of the grass, humming.

”Oh, you mean handsome! That’s a big word, where’d you read it?” Shiro knows that most of Keith’s vocabulary comes from books. People don’t talk him a lot. Not other classmates. Not adults.

”You’re not mad like the others?” Keith’s head snaps to Shiro and the purples and yellows of his eye are stomach-churning against Keith’s surprised eyes.

Innocent.

”It’s ok that you like him, Keith.” It’s the perfect moment for Shiro to come out but he chokes on his nerves. It’s about Keith, right now.

”Oh,” he says like he’s placed all stock in Shiro, like Shiro holds all the answers. The other kids could be wrong, but not Shiro. It’s naive. And sweet. And all too much a burden for Shiro to bear. ”I gave him a worm I found at recess and he put it down my shirt. Then he hit my eye when they asked me who I liked and I said it was him. Then he said sorry later. I don’t think he liked the worm.”

Keith reaches into his shirt and brings out the worm. ”Can you help me put him outside?” By some miracle the worm is still wriggling in Keith’s hands. It’s tough, like Keith himself.

”That’s a nice worm. Lance is crazy to not see that.” He chuckles at the smile blossoming on Keith’s face and looks around. ”Should we put him back in his home though?” He regrets the words almost as soon as he says them.

Keith’s grin falls.

”Did I take him from his parents?”

Shiro wants to choke on his mistake. ”No, it’ll be ok, Keith. This is a grown up worm, see, uh right here?” Shiro points to what he thinks is the end of it. ”That’s how you can tell.”

Keith’s face scrunches as he studies the worm but then nods, like his mind has found something, anything, to justify Shiro’s lame excuse, and Keith believes it. ”Yeah, he’s really old. I bet he’s like 20.”

Crisis dodged, Shiro finds them an open patch of dirt and digs with his hands. The dirt gets beneath his nails and he knows his grandpa will make him wash it off but it feels like freedom.

Keith lays the worm in the dirt gently and wishes him, ”good travels!”

Then they head into the forest to hunt for sticks so they can make the worm a shack of its own.

—————-—————-—————-

”Shiro, can I tell you a secret, through the phone?” Keith holds one side of their tin-can telephone up. ”I’m not supposed to share it though.” He can’t keep his gaze on Shiro. He’s drawing his finger along the wooden floor of their tree house, leaving a trail of clean as the dirt sullies his finger.

It’s raining outside, the rain pounding at the roof of their little haven tucked away in the woods behind Shiro’s house.

”Of course, Keith.” Shakily he raises his end of the telephone to his ears.

”I’m really not supposed to tell but _it’s you_ , Shiro. He can’t be mad because I always tell everything to you so, duh. Of course I’m telling.” Keith trips over his words, ending them with an eye roll and a shaky, insincere laugh.

Whatever Keith is about to tell him, it has the boy spooked.

Heart racing, palms sweating. Shiro thinks he’s heard something like this before. Warnings. ”Yeah that makes sense.” Someone told Keith not tell and Shiro feels his skin crawling.

Sigh. Keith sighs and seems genuinely relieved as he wipes his dirty finger along his pant leg.

”Thank Jesus. Ok so I was at James’ house, he’s my friend, and we were in his room -y’know ’cus duh, I’m at his house, where are we supposed to be? - and then James was kind of weird.” Keith’s mouth closes shut and his eyes look distant for a moment. Like the _weird_ is really starting to settle in.

Ice might as well run down Shiro’s back for the chill that shocks along his spine.

Just like the warnings.

He inhales around nausea. ”Oh, yeah that does sound weird.”

”Yeah, I know! So he’s like taking off his pajamas and tells me to do it, too. I kinda didn’t want to but I did it anyway, I don’t know. So, his pants are off and also his underwear and he lays on the bed. I’m like, I don’t know Shiro, it felt weird. So then he says to lick it. And I’m like, ”gross!” It was so gross. It tasted funny but at least James let me use a napkin on my tongue because it was gross licking his pee pee.” Keith doesn’t seem like he’s going to pause for air anytime soon.

”Keith?”

”Yeah?”

Shiro tosses the phone away and scoops Keith into a hug. ”Did you tell anyone this? Besides me, I mean.”

”Oh, well I told my foster mom and she said- actually I don’t think she said anything. I already forgot, and I think I’d remember. Why? Did I do something wrong?”

Hugs Keith tight holding in a sob.

Keith doesn’t seem fazed. He’s uncomfortable and nervous, that much is clear in his motor-mouthing, but his biggest show of concern was when he was making sure it was ok to tell Shiro.

Keith, 7 year Keith, Keith who’s in third grade, had just been molested.

And he had no idea what any of it meant.

”No, no you didn’t, K. You did nothing wrong at all.” Shiro has to breathe consciously to keep his emotions down. His anger at James threatens to boil his blood. His anguish over Keith having just been introduced to adult things before he was meant to, before he’d even hit puberty, before he could get to discover it for himself, safely, made him want to stand up and shatter his fist against the wall of their tree-house.

But he couldn’t let Keith know all that. Keith had something taken from him but he didn’t even know it was gone yet, that there was something to lose in the first place.

”Oh ok. Thanks for listening Shiro. Can we go play superheroes now?”

”Of course,” he chuckles.

All he could do was be there for Keith when the boy came to understand it.


	4. Chapter 4

Tubes.

So many tubes.

Past his first shock of seeing Keith, of just being in the room with him after so long of holding onto the thought of the man, a second wave came. His eyes traced the various tubes to their many machines and then back again. He had no idea what they were for.

One device is stretched across Keith’s neck with a tube running into his throat. Is that the feeding tube, Shiro wonders? Or maybe that’s what’s helping Keith breathe.

There’s a small tube that disappears into Keith’s nose. Seeing it makes him shift from each foot and purse his lips. He doesn’t want to think about how far down that one goes. Or to where.

He has IVs taped around his wrist that wind around to their drips. And that arm is strapped down to the bed, but Shiro’s starting to think that’s more precaution than actual belief Keith is gonna move and pull something out.

Shiro pulls up a chair and reaches for Keith’s hand, the one not tied to the bed. He clasps it. Lets his thoughts go quiet.

In the stillness Shiro can hear the steady pumping sound of whatever machine is breathing for Keith. Then there’s the beeping, softly announcing Keith’s heartbeat, slow and even.

He looks at Keith’s face, the hollow cheekbones, the sunken eyes, the once sun-adored skin now pale, gaunt, and he wonders if they’re really feeding him enough.

Is Keith hungry? Can he still feel hunger right now?

Can he feel anything at all?

Shiro gently squeezes the small, bony hand cradled in his.

”Hey, baby,” Shiro’s other hand reaches across Keith to cup his cheek and rub it gently. ”You’re looking a bit hungry,” he chuckles, knowing it’s not funny, that an even an awake Keith never liked his dark humour, ”when you wake up, why don’t we go get some enchiladas and sopapillas? I haven’t had those in forever. We’ll go off base to get them, ’cus let’s be honest, the restaurant on base is kind of trashy.” Keith loved to complain about it. Shiro didn’t actually mind it but he did have to admit, there’s nothing like that hole-in-wall place they’d found some time ago.

The ventilator is all that responds to him.

”This is like that time we had to take you to the hospital for your broken arm,” no. It’s not. ”You must’ve been flying down that field for your fall to break it. You always were a fast runner. Not a week into Basic and your scores beat some of us already well into our careers. In the simulators too. Man, it was like you couldn’t leave any record for the rest of us. You had to have all the attention.” He says it warm, proud. ”And you got it. You definitely had all of mine.” Definitely still do, he doesn’t say.

He talks to Keith about nothing. He talks to Keith about everything.

When a nurse finally comes in, Shiro is just quietly sat up in his chair, having not let go of Keith’s hand, even if it’s become sweaty many conversation points ago.

The nurse’s eyes are wide at first before they settle into a soft gaze with the courners of her lids crinkled.

”Are you his brother? You look so much alike,” _their only relation is their ethnicity_ , ”We didn’t know he had any family. But, ah, thank for your service, Mr. Kogaine. I’m sure your brother likes hearing your voice again.”

He forgot they’d stuffed him in his uniform after releasing him from interrogation.

He smiles at her despite her rudeness. And then he words catch up. ”He can hear me?”

She nods. ”I was actually here to check on him because the readouts on his brain activity had spiked. I wanted to make sure nothing was irritating him. Usually it means we need to change his clothes or move him around.”

 _He can get irritated?_ Shiro looks down at Keith. He wants to sob. Keith can’t communicate any discomfort.

”I’m glad it wasn’t that. Although, it is getting late and I need to change him anyway,” she pauses, ”If you’d like you can help me. Otherwise you have to go now.” She walks over to the bed and starts to peel back the sheet.

Shiro takes Keith’s hand in his and gently lifts them, as much as he can on the one strapped to the bed, while the nurse pulls the sheets down and off. He gingerly lays each hand back down.

Wordlessly he scoops an arm beneath Keith’s shoulder and raises him to get at the tie at the back of his gown. Keith is so light that Shiro almost pulls him off the bed, except for Keith’s right arm, having misjudged the strength he’d need. His other hand unties the gown. He lowers Keith back down and carefully works his arm back out. He gets the gown off Keith and hands it to the nurse.

The first thing he notices is that Keith has no muscle left anywhere. Each bone of his chest is protruding under the skin.

Keith looks dead.

The nurse hooks her fingers in the band of Keith’s pants and Shiro looks away before she has them off. Keith deserves that much. He trains his gaze at Keith’s still motionless face as the nurse puts a fresh pair of pants on Keith. She hands him another gown and Shiro delicately works Keith into it.

Though he can feel her eyes on him, he leans down and brushes his lips on Keith’s cheek. She probably thinks it’s familial. He’s almost glad she’s there because otherwise he would’ve gone for Keith’s lips. Which would have been unfair to the man, as he lie there unable to protest, or enthuse, about anything.

He thanks her and she lets him know the visiting hours for the rest of the week.

The drive back to the Garrison is quiet save for the radio playing country just barely capable of being heard of the hum of the engine.

”What was Keith like, when I left?” Shiro asks as he stares out into the clear desert sky. It’s hard to see the stars over the lights in and from their vehicle but he knows they’re there. He knows because there had been so many nights he’d loaded Keith on the back of his motorcycle and they drove as far away as they could to be alone with the stars.

The last they’d done it was before Shiro enlisted. It had been Keith’s first year in middle school, and his first school dance. The boy had, with Shiro’s help, plucked up the courage to ask a boy in his class named Ryan. Only, when James had heard what Keith had done, he’d broadcasted it around the whole school. Keith had lunches thrown at him, ’for being a fairy.’ Ryan, for his part, had just politely turned Keith down.

Shiro took Keith out into the desert, where the roads stretched beyond sight in every direction, set down a radio and slow danced with a crying, heartbroken Keith.

”That boy was wild, I tell you what. But whatever it is you did, maybe it’s something you said before you left, he did his best to not piss anyone off, didn’t back-talk, didn’t throw any punches. A real miracle worker you were, Shirogane.” Iverson lights up and cigarette and rolls down his window. The smell is acrid.

He remembers when he’d caught Keith smoking. He’d ripped the stick from his mouth and crushed it under his foot. It was a dirty habit, one that young Keith had no business getting into.

When questioned Keith shrank and turned his head away. But that let Shiro see a fresh, purple bruise peeking from under Keith’s shirt. It wasn’t hand-shaped, nor foot-shaped. It was small- like a pair of lips. But Keith didn’t look like he was happy about whatever had happened. Certainly, the boy wouldn’t have gone for a cigarette if he were.

 _Again_. That was all Shiro could think as he had gathered Keith into his arms.

Shiro changes from looking out the windshield to his window. He rests his cheek against the cool pane of glass and watches as his breath fogs it up. He’d never considered how precious it was to have breaths his own.

”And when I was declared dead in action?” He watches Iverson from the reflection.

Iverson sighs and digs the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray. ”Christ, Shirogane.” His grip on the steering wheel tightens. ”You know, it’s no wonder you two got so close. Stubborn pains in the asses, you are.”

Shiro hums and lets his eyes close, the vibration against his face is grounding.

”So, Kogane flips his shit, but you knew that. What you probably didn’t know is that he sucker punched me in the damn eye. If you’ll remember, I had two perfectly functioning eyes before your dumb ass left. Well, I wasn’t going to do anything. I figured something like that would happen when he found out. You were his world, Shirogane. But he’d done it in front of witnesses, and so we had to boot him. Beyond that, I don’t know. Specialist Serrano was the closest to him, and I think visited him a few times. He’d be the best to ask.” Iverson grumbles as he reaches back down for his cigarette and lights it up again. ”Now let me have this. Contrary to what I have to let you all think, I care about the kid, and I appreciate not thinking about this.”

He’ll ask Lance tomorrow.

Today, he falls asleep in the car as the weight of everything drops on him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning this chapter contains more molestation mentions

They’re watching Shiro’s new TV in his room. He has a small couch that they’re sitting on as they watch. A bowl of popcorn rests on a little table in front of them.

The movie is a romantic fantasy adventure. Shiro pretends that it’s just all he has rather than admit to Keith that these are his favorite types of movies. Knights and true love just do it for him.

The movie ends and he turns to Keith, and Keith turns to him.

”Do you think I’ll ever find a husband?” Keith’s eyebrows are scrunched and lips pressed hard. His eyes aren’t quite focusing where they’re looking at Shiro.

Shiro chuckles, ”Keith, you’re a little young to be worried about that, don’t you think?”

Keith pouts and rakes his fingers along the fabric of the couch. ”I don’t know. Lance didn’t like me. I don’t think anyone’s gonna.”

”Lance was just one person, Keith. There are so many out there, you’re bound to find someone. When you’re older.” The last thing Keith needs right now is try and rush growing up. He doesn’t know if Keith’s seen anyone about what happened to him, and Shiro worries that Keith will be taken advantage of, or unknowingly take advantage. As painful as that last truth is.

Keith reaches between Shiro’s legs and gropes. ”My foster brother said I have to do this if I want boys to like me.”

Shiro quickly grabs his hands away and returns them to Keith’s sides. ”Keith, we don’t touch people like that.”

That, exactly, was his worry.

Keith looks like he’s ready to bolt from the room, and find the nearest spot to hide.

”I’m sorry, Shiro.”

Keith’s only 10.

”You didn’t know. It’s ok,” Shiro tries to smile but a thought pops into his head and it threatens to crush him, realization settling in, ”Keith, your foster brother did this to you?”

Keith shakes his head.

”Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. I just wanna know, ok?” Shiro raises his hand to try and placate Keith.

Keith eyes flick to him and then to the static playing on the TV, the cassette still rolling well passed the credits.

”He took me into the closet and showed me what I needed to do. But I guess he was trying to trick me. You didn’t like it.”

Shiro bites the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t know what to say, or do. Can he do anything? Should he do anything? How?

”Well, Keith. That’s... it’s not really something you just do to someone. You need their permission.”

”Oh,” Keith cocks his head, ”Should I have asked you first? Shiro can I-”

”No!” He doesn’t mean to shout but Keith had already reached his hand out. ”Sorry, Keith. But, no. It’s something grown-ups do with other grown-ups. Keith, if someone does that to you, you need to tell a grown-up, ok?”

”Ok. Are you mad now, ’Kashi?”

Shiro shakes his head and ruffles Keith’s hair. ”I’m not.”

Keith smiles small.

Shiro gets up to change the tape, if only to get some space.

Keith’s being hurt and he has no idea what to do about it.

—————-—————-—————-

Keith’s elbow is shredded.

”I was running full speed to get to the playground and James tripped me.”

It was blacktop.

More than the pain, Keith seems confused why James did that.

Boys are cruel even at 10.

The scar, Shiro knows, will become an angry keloid. It's a great source of anxiety and self-consciousness for Keith for years to come. Though it fades, 16 years later and it's still there. Keith asks him, one day, why only cruel people like him. And all Shiro can think of is the boy who was so captivated by knights, and wonders why life is so unfair. 

—————-—————-—————-

Keith knocks on the car window as Adam is grinding on Shiro’s lap, their tongues locked passionately. They separate quickly, Shiro pushing Adam hard from on top of him.

Shiro hadn’t told Keith about Adam. Still hadn’t told Keith about being gay, either.

He’d warned Adam that Keith would be out of school and at his car any moment. He’d warned Adam that someone might spot them. And he warned them that something like that might have been enough for an accusation of something heinous. For all the strides forward the community had taken, gay men were still treated as pedophiles.

Shiro turns to Adam, fixing him with a glare mean enough that the man utters a soft apology.

He unlocks the car doors and Keith nearly throws the back one open. He tosses his backpack roughly across the seat and it hits against the other side. His jaw is set and slams the door closed.

”Keith, I know you probably had a bad day-”

”Well, duh.” Keith huffs as he fights to click his seat belt into the lock. For a 10 year old, the rage is palpable and has Shiro’s heart sinking out of concern.

”-We can’t just slam doors, ok? It’s ok to be angry, but we have to deal with it in better ways. Like talking, for instance.”

Keith sighs dramatically. ”So did you ask him first, Shiro? Who even are you?”

From the rear-view mirror he sees Keith crosses his arms and glare at the back of the seat. He kicks it.

Oh. That’s what this is about.

”I’m sorry Keith. I told him we shouldn’t be doing that here-” he turns to give Adam a pointed look, ”-but this is Adam. Adam, this is Keith.”

Adam throws his arms exasperated and shuffles so he’s facing Keith. ”Nice to meet you, Keith.”

”It’s not nice.”

”Keith!” Shiro says and he cranes in his seat like Adam. ”I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but it’s not his fault. Now apologize, so we can take Adam home, and then head out to the baseball field.”

Keith curls his lip up but at least tells Adam he’s sorry.

Adam, as Shiro sees from the courner of his vision, is searching Keith’s face for something. Whatever he finds, it seems to quell him because he accepts the apology.

Later, Adam texts him.

Adam: Keith is jealous

And suddenly everything makes sense.

—————————————————

Keith climbs into the car and buckles his seat belt without a word. He’s watching out the windshield, unmoving.

Shiro knows when Keith needs his space, so he just turns the radio on to the country station and lets the music softly fill the car.

It’s when Keith is unbuckling his belt, gathering his bag, and halfway out the car door, that he finally tells Shiro.

”I went to the counselor’s today. A boy rubbed my butt.”

He leaves before Shiro can respond.

—————-—————-—————-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'm reading all your comments and they mean so much to me.  
> This is just so draining. I had a panic attack yesterday. I need to write this, but I also want this nightmare to be over.


	6. Chapter 6

Shiro invited Lance to a café off base. Iverson said Shiro was pushing his luck to leave again, this time at the request of going alone, but said for him to go ahead, with a look of pain in his eyes.

”Remember there are some things we don’t want to hear. Not that that would stop you. ” Was all he had provided before waving Shiro away from his office.

Lance is settled in the booth, hunched over the table, over the coffee he ordered with an extra shot. There are circles beneath his eyes that threaten themselves as bruises. He laughs, long, painful, scratchy, ”I knew this would come when I saw you yesterday.”

Shiro sits back into the cold, uncomfortable metal behind him. He takes a sip of his coffee because his nerves demand he do something, knowing they’ll just scream at him later once the caffeine has hit him. He’s looking at Lance. But it’s not _Lance_. The man starting back at him is not surrounded by the cheerful energy Shiro noticed immediately upon meeting him. The coffee tastes acrid on his tongue.

”I- wow, uh-” Lance puffs his cheeks with air and lets out a forceful, visible exhale, fingers coming through his fringe, ”Where do I start?”

Keith had just received the news that Shiro was dead. It was the same time they’re whole squad had. It was just right after breakfast that they had been pulled into the office. They had figured that, given that Shiro had been their CO, if just for a brief time before leaving, the news should be broken to them first.

That was the story, anyway.

But Lance thought it was because they knew Keith would take it hard. The higher ups had long suspected that Shiro and Keith were engaging in terminable acts. It was their respect for Shiro, and their desperation to not lose such a good officer, that they turned their eyes away from it.

”Keith, as you can imagine, exploded. At first it was disbelief, I think. He yelled at Officer Iverson, saying he was lying. Man, I don’t think anyone gives that man enough credit for how well he took that. But he just stood firm, and told Keith again. They had their back and forth-” Lance sweeps his hand from one side to the other, ”and eventually, it sank in. And when it did, well, that’s when Keith got in trouble.”

He’d punched Iverson in the eye with all his strength, causing a large scar and permanent blindness.

Keith was booted after that.

Keith left for his old shack, the one in the desert that his dad had built. The one, Shiro knew, Keith had went to live at, alone, after winning emancipation and before he was accepted in the Force.

”This places reeks,” Lance said as he entered through the creaking door. ”Keith?” He wasn’t technically invited, but he also technically wasn’t _not_ invited. And, as poked around the shack to see dirty dishes piled more around the place than in the sink, the odor of rotting garbage, and dirty clothes tossed about the floor of the bedroom, he thinks it’s a good thing he came.

”Keith?” He asked again though there was no sign of the man. Deciding Keith would show up eventually, that he was probably out getting food or something, he thought to take a closer look around.

On the walls in the living room behind the couch were various cork boards which had drawings, mad scribbles of all sorts, and pins and string. But what really caught his attention was the writing on one of them that read, ’It’s killing me when you’re away.’

Lance reached out with unsure fingers and let them hover just above the lettering; he didn’t want to disturb it but there wasn’t about it that felt like if he touched it would have form. And if it did it would be heavy and frigid.

In Keith’s room are posters, old posters, of Shiro when the man posed for recruitment ads. One such poster is on the ceiling, Lance notices as he looks up, like Shiro had been a star to hang above.

Of course there were actual stars. Well, the plastic glow-in-the-dark kind. It seemed many of them had fallen down from their tack though, their dim bodies littering the floor where they peek beneath clothes.

Lance was on his way out the bedroom when he found himself staring down the long barrel of a hunting rifle. He hadn’t heard anyone come in but there Keith was, snarl at either courner of his lips, hair wild, and dirt and grease smeared all over his face. He looked feral.

”Woah, I just came to check up on you,” Lance raises his hands, he’s seen Keith shoot, he’s seen Keith in physical combat, he knows he need tread careful. ”Didn’t expect you back so quick.”

Keith gruffed and slowly lowered the gun. ”Didn’t expect intruders,” he countered and that’s the roughest Lance had ever heard the man. ”Why are you here?”

Lance wasn’t sure how to answer that, thinking, ”pity,” would earn him a clean shot through the leg, and, ”worry,” would also earn him a clean shot through the leg. _You were my battle buddy._ Whatever semblance of normalcy and restraint Keith had had was all too obviously due to Shiro. The man had somehow tamed Keith, like he was a wild animal-

”Don’t talk about Keith like that,” Shiro fixes Lance with a look that makes him quickly backtracks.

This Keith had the look in his eyes that he wouldn’t hesitate.

So Lance stuck with perhaps the safest answer, ”I don’t really know,” sometimes playing dumb was the best Lance could do.

There was a moment, a few breaths, and then a snort from Keith. ”Right, Serrano.” He entered the room bumped Lance away with his shoulder, going to store the gun beneath the bed. ”Staying for dinner?”

Lance tried to hide the sour look on his face. Some of the dishes he’d seen about were mouldy and crusted. But as he was going to decline he noticed Keith hadn’t turned around yet and his shoulders were tense and he was hunched in on himself a bit.

Keith wanted - no, needed - Lance to stay for dinner.

”Ok, but first we really have to take care of these dishes.”

One evening, As Keith changed shirts, his dog tags got knocked to his back. Keith was turned and rifling through his drawers. Lance didn’t know what drew him to read the tags but something did and, as if

He remembered the day Officer Shirogane was chewed out publicly for misplacing his tags. As if Officer Shirogane ever lost anything.

But it made sense then, and, despite all the other glaring signs, for some reason it was seeing Keith adorned in Shiro’s dog tags that affirmed that Officer Shirogane and Airman First Class Kogaine.

”You two were the Garrison’s worst kept secret. I think we all knew, we just ducked our heads so we wouldn’t have to acknowledge it.”

”You knew?” Shiro nearly jumps out of his seat before realizing himself.

Lance chuckles. ”Of course we did, Shiro. It was the lingering touches and those stupid gazes. Like, somehow you’d always find yourselves next to each in a room. Your voice always got different around him - to him - too.”

Shiro honestly hadn’t noticed.

It was tense for the first hours with Keith in the shack. The two had set out to tidy up and Lance’s attempts at starting conversation kept falling flat. But, after awhile, Keith defrosted and they ended up bickering, only it wasn’t so much fighting as it was good-natured teasing.

Keith, Lance learned was a good cook. But the man had to be, he was all that was out there at the desert shack.

”I can’t say we really became great friends, as much as that hurts to admit, but I tried to go check on him whenever I could get off base. Sometimes I convinced Hunk or Pidge to join me. Even in the heat of summer, that shack felt so cold, so it was nice when I could get others to come and fill the space up a bit more.” Lance pauses and puts a spoon in his coffee and stirs, probably just for something to do.

”I could see Keith was kind of losing it- we all could - but I... you know, we weren’t _close_ friends so I felt like there wasn’t really anything I could do.”

Lance visited him on any time off he had.

”It was... One day. I remember it well because it had really been building for a long time.”

It wasn’t a rainy day but it was a stormy one, with lightning flashing every few minutes. It was the type of day that Lance expects there might be a tornado. Which meant as long as the weather was loud and brash, he didn’t have to worry. It was when things calmed that the storm would settle in.

”I’d visited him the day before, one of the rare weekends I had off, and it was strange. He’d went months just... sad. He was mourning you. But that day before? He seemed happier. Lighter. Like he’d finally been able to let go.” 

Keith had let go. Of everything.

When Lance had entered the shack it had been mind numbingly quiet.

”Keith?” Lance had called around but still it was quiet.

Keith’s bike had been parked outside and Lance saw no reason Keith would be out there; he’d hunted enough for the next week already. As Lance made his way to the bedroom he noticed the board that had been erased of its text, the pins taken down, and the only thing remaining was a newly written message. ”I’ll be there soon.”

Lance looked about him to spot what had caused a chill to strike his spine. Maybe it was the static in the air but he felt his hair standing up. ”Keith? You there?” He turned the courner and Keith was there.

”Keith was there. Lying sideways, bleeding heavily from the side of his face. There was a spilled over bottle whiskey and pills beside him. And one of guns beside that. Shiro, I’m so sorry, Keith, he-”

”He tried to blow his brains against the ceiling.” Shiro finished for him.

”But it hadn’t worked. Maybe it’s because he was drinking before but he missed. Keith Kogaine missed a shot. And instead of- instead of his head it took out a chunk of his face. And the, uh, pills...”

”They’re why he’s a vegetable.” He finishes for Lance.

”Shiro I don’t know what they’ve told you but- Shiro it’s been a year. Keith’s been like this for a year. I just... I can’t watch another friend do this again. Don’t chase him, Shiro. Don’t chase him like he did you.”

Shiro closes his eyes and lets his head fall back. Keith isn’t dead. Like Shiro wasn’t dead. Even if Keith needs machines to breathe for him and tubes to give him food, Keith isn’t dead.

”Lance, thank you for telling me. And being there for him. I’m not giving up on him though. I can’t.”

Lance purses his lips and lets out a shaky, watery laugh that’s more of a choked sob than anything. ”You love him.” He scrubs at his eyes. ”Fuck, Shiro. I- Fuck. You really think he can wake don’t you?”

Shiro looks down to the table. No, he doesn’t think that, but he wants to. He wants to believe it. Like Keith believed in him. ”I think it’s worth a shot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter felt so rushed but again, I need to get this out of my head. Off my queue. I'm so upset not being able to do this justice but so much is going wrong right now, I need something. I want to finish this so at least I can have finished something else. I need my mind off things but I'm trapped.

**Author's Note:**

> So, long note:
> 
> This story hits close to home.  
> It's not a one-for-one retelling of things that have happened in my life, but it comes pretty close.  
> I've kept these words inside for so long, I can only hope that having them out, in one place, will help me heal. That people reading this, who have been through similar things, can find some comfort, some acknowledgement that they aren't alone, in this. 
> 
> I know I already have two projects up, but yesterday I found myself frozen at the bank of the river, and I pondered so many things. It was raining and the waters were high, the waters were fast moving. I pondered it. 
> 
> I want to rewrite that damn holiday fic. I wrote it in my blind attempt to take my mind away from the river. If I was gonna drown, let me drown in my head. It was no more than gibberish from mania. An attempt to land back down on Earth before I got swept away.
> 
> Anyways.  
> I'll tag the warnings at the top of chapters, because this will have heavy topics.  
> And I doubt an anti will have wondered into my space, but in case they have, the sheith develops naturally over time. They're just children now. And, like in canon, Shiro doesn't see Keith that way. Not now. Not when he's a child. Shiro doesn't start having those type of feelings about Keith until Keith's 18-19.


End file.
